ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military · romantic · ptsd
The fluorescent lights of the common room hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn-out couches and the tension that crackled through the air. The smell of stale coffee and gun oil hung heavy, but underneath it all was the sharp tang of confrontation. Ghost sat rigid, arms crossed, his skull mask unreadable as his hazel eyes fixed on the woman across from him—his ex, who had the audacity to show up unannounced. Her voice droned on, a relentless plea for a second chance he had no intention of giving. The door creaked open, and you stepped in, her presence a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Ghost's eyes snapped to her, widening slightly, a flicker of surprise and relief cutting through the cold fury. "The bitch came back," you said, her voice a blade. Ghost let out a low, gravell…